


Boys are Late Bloom Flowers

by potentialfordisaster



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF, Real Person Fiction, Thor (Movies) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Established Relationship, M/M, Mpreg, Teen Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy, intersexual!tom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-09 14:16:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5542976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potentialfordisaster/pseuds/potentialfordisaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something seems to bother Tom, and it's not until he tells Chris that they can finally give the next - and unexpected - step in their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Summary kind of sucks, sorry. Fic born out of my deep obsession with mpreg. Kisses to [lolalyn](http://lolalyn.tumblr.com/) who's also a die-hard fan of mpreg.
> 
> Warning for intersexuality: if you aren't okay with Tom having female body parts, perhaps you won't feel too comfortable reading this.

At this time of the afternoon, the library was fairly quiet. Most of the students had already gone home or were in their clubs, and Tom cherished the peace he got to himself. Sat at a table in the center of the room, Tom split his attention between blatantly trying to read a random book he had picked from a shelf, checking the time on the clock and thinking. 

Tom bit the corner of his thumb, giving up on the book and unlocking his cell phone's screen. The librarian forbid cell phones inside so Tom sneaked it under the table, opening the app he needed. Twelve days late. Tom sighed, putting it away in his pocket again. It wouldn't change, no matter how many times he checked. He had been waiting and waiting and still it hadn't come, leaving him nervous and apprehensive. 

There were fifteen minutes left before Chris' practice was over, so Tom rose, grabbed his backpack and checked the book out with him, exiting the library and heading to the field beside the parking lot. 

Chris was running laps, he and some friends gathered around in a group, talking quietly before they burst into collective laughter. He didn't notice Tom when he took a seat at the bleachers, opening the book on his lap and trying to remember where he had left off. The sky was cloudy today and Tom dearly hoped it wouldn't rain any minute now because the school's bleachers had no covers. 

"Hey!" He heard someone shouting, a voice that was unmistakeably Chris'. Tom looked up to find Chris waving to him at a distance, and smiled despite of himself, waving back and blowing him a kiss. He could hear the coach's gruff voice as he spoke to Chris and his friends, but couldn't make out what he was saying. 

Tom supported his chin on his palm, watching as Chris and the other boys took a last lap around the field, their uniforms wet in some spots, dirty with grass. 

The coach whistled, and they all came to a stop. "Great, boys!" the man called, dismissing them with a last advice and Tom shut his book, putting it away in his backpack as Chris said his goodbyes to his friends and ran to meet him. Tom smiled, hiking his backpack on his shoulders and walking down the bleachers to lean against the metal railing. 

Chris was sweaty, fat drops dripping from his brow, the roots of his hair wet. He looked positively handsome, with his shorts and his clinging shirt, his skin bronze and glinting. "Hey," he said, giving Tom a peck. 

"Hello," Tom grinned faintly. 

Chris hummed, lining their faces closer and making Tom smile and giggle. "Were you waiting for too long here?" 

Tom shook his head. "I've only just arrived." 

Chris hummed and ducked to kiss him again, swiping his thumb over Tom's cheekbone and deepening their kiss. Someone catcalled them and Tom blushed, pushing him away slowly with a hand to Chris' chest. 

"Shy?" Chris murmured, laughing in the back of his throat and nipping Tom's earlobe. 

"Chris." Tom admonished lightly, giving a step back. "Aren't you going to change?" 

"Yep," Chris smiled. "Wait for me, right?" 

Tom nodded simply, taking a seat back and waiting until Chris was done showering in the boys locker room. He looked ahead, at the coach taking cones out of the field, the distant chirp of a bird, trees rustling with the wind. Tom sighed, scratching his head worriedly. It meant nothing. But Tom couldn't help being fearful. Something like that had never happened to him before and he didn't know how to deal with it. He was fairly certain nothing had gone wrong with his pills, there were some gaps in his days because it wasn't always that he remembered taking it, though the app he had on his phone kept him in time with his biology. He was postponing when to tell his mother, afraid of her reaction. 

A hand came over his eyes from behind and Tom gasped. "Who is it?" came the teasing voice beside his ear. 

"Stop it, Chris." Tom said, batting his hand away and standing up. Chris draped an arm around his shoulders, bringing Tom closer to settle a kiss on his lips. His hair was darker when wet and he smelt clean, like soap, and Tom hid his face in Chris' neck before humming. 

"Let's go, baby." Chris said, waving at some of his friends and taking Tom's hand to lead them to the parking lot. 

Tom looked down at their shoes as they walked, frowning. He needed to tell Chris too, but didn't know how to do it. Chris was so tranquil, whistling and twirling his car keys in his fingers. It seemed so unfair to bother his boyfriend with his problems. 

_It's his problem too,_ the honest part of Tom's mind supplied, making him worry his bottom lip. 

"Any plans for tonight?" Chris asked, suddenly, taking Tom out of his thoughts. He started, and looked up at Chris before giving it some thought. 

"No." 

Chris hummed, and they approached his car, where instead of going to the driver's seat, Chris slowly leaned Tom against its side. Tom crossed his arms and Chris swiped his hands over Tom's arms in broad strokes, probably thinking the sudden brisk wind had left him cold. "I was thinking," Chris began, and Tom waited, feeling the edges of the library book digging into his back where his backpack was pressed against the car's side. "We could go to my place and watch The Devil wears Prada again," he continued, and ducking to press a wet kiss to Tom's neck, said in a lower voice that "Mom and dad aren't home." 

Tom could feel Chris' grin against his skin, but his heart tugged at the implication. He was so not in the mood for sex right now when all this was probably... Sighing, he closed his eyes, and Chris leaned back to stare at him, a slight pinch between his brows. "What's wrong, babe?" he asked, worried, the tip of his thumbs caressing the line of Tom's jaw. 

"Nothing, it's just-" Tom licked his lips, watching the collar of Chris' shirt instead of looking directly at him. "A lot on my mind lately." 

Chris nodded to that, but didn't look convinced. "Too many tests this week?" He knew how apathetic Tom got whenever he was close to an exam. 

"No," Tom shook his head lightly, smiling at Chris' innocence. 

"Tom, come on," Chris sighed, hands falling to Tom's waist. He sounded anxious, the way he did whenever he knew Tom was hiding something. "You haven't been yourself lately, don't think I didn't notice." Tom said nothing to that, staring down at the floor with his heart racing. He had to tell Chris. And Chris' face changed while studying him, pulling Tom's body slightly closer by the waist. "Is it about us? Are you confused or-?" 

"No," Tom was quick to shake his head, eyes shut. "I mean, I don't know." He looked down at his hands, examining his nails which he had been biting at during the whole day. Tom sighed, feeling Chris' worried gaze on him and gulping forcefully before making himself speak. "My blood still hasn't come." 

He looked up at Chris to gauge his reaction, but his boyfriend's face was unreadable until the pinch between his brows intensified, chest filling with a next, deeper breath, taking in the meaning behind Tom's words. "I see," he finally said, after a beat that had Tom's throat constricting. 

Chris nodded to himself, sliding his big and warm hands to Tom's neck and planting a kiss on his forehead. Tom breathes against him, needing this calm of having shared what had been eating at him through these last few days. 

"You're never late?" Chris asked, lowly. 

Tom shrugged. "Maybe for one day or two but never like this." 

Chris nodded, and seemed to brace himself for his next question. "How long?" 

Tom licked his lips, feeling the material of Chris' shirt with his hands where they lay on his chest. "Twelve." 

"Okay," Chris said, though they both feel it's nothing but. "Have you told your doctor or your mother?" 

"No, no," Tom shook his head. "You're the first to know." 

"All right," Chris kissed his lips, letting Tom lean against his shoulder and grunt out his frustration. "God, Chris, I'm so worried." 

Chris soothed him with a hand on the back of his neck, making a soft sound beside his ear to calm him. "It doesn't have to mean anything, Tom, mayb-" 

"How it doesn't mean anything, Chris?" Tom interrupted, sighing and wrapping his long arms around Chris' shoulders. "I mean, we- I get careless with my pills sometimes." Tom can feel Chris swallowing, and they separate for a minute. 

"Tom, let's stay calm, okay? You're making me nervous." 

Tom nodded, but it was half-hearted. Chris hiked his practice bag and Tom stepped to the side when he opened the car and threw it in the backseat. "Listen, let's get in the car, right? We can go to my place and you can contact your doctor." 

Tom accepted, and as he sat in the passenger seat, stared ahead at the windshield. "Do you wish to call your mother?" Chris asked, shutting his door and starting the car. 

"What for?" Tom responded, still in a frenzy despite the steady way Chris was dealing with it. 

Chris made a noise with his tongue and drove out of the school's parking lot with a sigh. "I don't know," he ended up saying, and took a quick look at Tom. "Babe, your seat belt." 

"Right," Tom gulped, reaching for the belt and clicking it tight. "Thanks." 

They drive in silence for a while, both visibly worried and edgy. "Do you have your doctor's number with you?" Chris asked, both hands on the steering wheel. 

"No, I- Shit." Tom grimaced, digging his wrists into his eyes. "It's in my room back home. I think my mother has it too but," he huffed, "she'll want to know what happened if I ask her." 

Chris bit his lip, nodding and staring ahead. They stop at a red light, and Chris' discomfort becomes visible, leaning his elbow on the windowsill, his knuckles brushing his lips as he stares ahead, deep in thought. He turned to face Tom sharply, swallowing with difficulty. "Do you think we could stop at a drugstore?" 

Tom watched him, slightly panicky, waiting for him to continue with round eyes. "I can buy you a pregnancy test." 

Tom huffed out a sob. He wants to curse himself and Chris, but knows it's useless. Resting his elbow on the windowsill, he secures his head with a fist. "I don't know, I- I truly don't know, Chris." 

It feels so immense, the whole realization of their current situation, Tom's whole body shrinking in fear. How could they let it come to this? They were almost adults now by law, and yet they behaved like a couple of kids. Kids. This is what their parents will call them if- 

"If we wait until you talk to your doctor it'll take some time." Chris stared at him, and only stopped when a horn sounded behind them and he cut his attention back to the green light. "But if we stop at the drugstore, we can know now." 

Tom went back to biting his nails. "I don't know if I ever want to know." 

Chris sighed, and when they turned the corner and saw the gas station at the end of the street, glanced at Tom. "What do you think?" 

Tom took in a breath, eyeing the gas station with its small drugstore beside it. "All right," he nodded, "Do you have money on you?" 

"Yes." 

Chris parked slowly, collecting some change in the console before turning to Tom, bringing him closer by his head to kiss him. "Stay calm, okay?" 

Tom nodded, and Chris exited, shutting the door. He watched his boyfriend's silhouette as he walked through the sliding glass doors and went for a random aisle. Sighing, Tom tried calming his beating heart. Perhaps it really was nothing, they were exaggerating. Tom was dying for his blood to come right now, so they could laugh in relief and throw the test away. But nothing came, and he stared at the windows as rain started to pour, small drops that fell and dotted the windshield. 

The place smelt faintly of gas, and Tom remembered how much he hated gas stations. But Chris appeared in his line of sight again, seeming to be holding something in a hand as he made his way towards the register, pulling out his wallet when the tired-looking cashier rang his purchase. His face is thoroughly unreadable, but Tom has known him for enough time to notice he's worried, introspective, thanking the cashier and returning to the car with a small plastic bag. 

Tom shifted in his seat when Chris opened the door, the leather rustling when he took back his seat and smiled tightly to Tom, handing him the plastic bag. "Oh god," Tom can't help murmuring, his heart increasing its pace when he saw the rectangular package, pulling it out as Chris started the engine and drove off. 

Tom's fingers shake when he takes in the test, a smiling, toothless baby beside the lab's logo. He let it drop in shock and cast his eyes aside, suddenly feeling his last meal climbing up his throat, a cold hand grasping his heart. He gulped in an airful before quickly putting it away in his backpack. 

"You okay, Tom?" Chris asked, wary. 

Tom grimaced, but nodded. 

"Did you, you know," Chris paused, turning a left, "Did you feel anything, like, nausea?" 

"No," Tom shook his head. He had been way too jumpy during the last few days not to have freaked out if he had felt anything different in a suspicious way. But now it seems his whole body is vibrating with nerves, and Chris doesn't look too different, keeping his silence with a tight jaw, an unfamiliar tension corroding them. 

"It's my fault," Chris suddenly said, making Tom jump in his seat. His boyfriend stared firmly ahead, but everything in his face denoted how troubled he was. "I said we should stop wearing condoms." 

It's not like that, either. "No, Chris," Tom replied, his head feeling tight around his skull and a headache is the last thing he needs right now. "I agreed, I- I said I would take the pill." 

"And did you?" There's an edge to Chris' words, deep and cutting, _accusing_ and in any other situation Tom would've been more sensible to it, would've understood that Chris was as scared as him and that he didn't wish to blame Tom, was only frightened; but now Tom sees nothing but rage, a constriction in his chest that brings out all the tension he had been keeping to himself during the last few days. 

"Yes, Chris, I fucking did!" He snaps, and Chris' eyes widen. 

"Tom, please, calm down." Chris pleads, not taking his eyes away from the road but securing a hand to Tom's thigh. 

"I can't," Tom huffs, eyes aching where it seems his tears are trying to form. "It's- I promised mom we would be careful-" 

"We don't know yet, Tom, we don't know yet." Chris tries to appease him, voice soothing and steady. Tom wants to shake him, to make him _see_ , but he pulled in a good breath and let his head fall back on the seat, eyeing the ceiling of Chris' car, heart hammering his ribcage. 

They finally enter Chris' street, Tom letting his head loll to the side, watching the tall trees passing by through his window. Chris parked in front of his garage, sparing him a cautious look before the doors unlocked and Tom immediately opened the door to leave, staring up at the grey sky and breathing in the fresh air, listening to Chris' door slamming at the other side. 

"Tom," Chris called, and Tom shut his eyes, feeling suddenly cold. "Let's go, baby." Chris said, coming to retrieve him, an arm squeezing his waist closer to Chris' side, "Come on, you can take a hot shower if you want to, rest a little, and then we do the test." They go up the front steps, and as Chris fits his key in the lock, Tom clutches his shirt. 

The house is eerily quiet when they enter, cold. Tom walks in and Chris follows, dropping his keys somewhere. Tom sighs, standing in the centre of the living room with his arms crossed, eyeing the surroundings with lazy eyes. He had always found the Hemsworth's house so lovely, so wide and beautiful and homey, but now he just looks at it with disinterest, his preoccupation making his brow furrow, his forehead heavy. 

"Tom," Chris calls again, motioning towards the stairs. Tom nods and goes to meet him at the bottom of it, Chris dropping a kiss on his cheek. They go up to Chris' room, which is in a slight disarray. Chris drops his practice bag in a corner of the room, and Tom sits himself at the edge of his bed, putting his backpack in his lap. "Liam and Luke are out. Luke with his girlfriend and Liam with a group of friends, I think." Chris says, just to break the silence, it feels. Tom nods, smoothing his hands down atop the duvet covering Chris' bed, looking up at his boyfriend who stands in front of him, hands on his hips as he watches Tom. "Do you want some water, a bath?" Chris asks, and Tom shakes his head. He feels like doing nothing now. 

Tom can see as Chris swallows, eyes darting to the side. "Do you want to do the test now?" Chris asks, and Tom gulps. But Chris was right, they needed to know. Tom couldn't wait until scheduling an appointment with his doctor. Biting his lip, he nods stiffly. 

"Okay, okay, good," Chris mumbles, nodding to himself. He sat beside Tom on the bed, the mattress dipping. Tom opens his backpack and reaches for the test, handing it to Chris without looking. He can hear as Chris takes a good breath in, certainly also taking in the test's cover. "God," his boyfriend murmured, and Tom stared ahead, at the blue wall where Chris' computer table rests against. Tom listens as Chris opens the packing, the sound of a paper sliding together with something heavier. 

Chris unfolds the paper, and Tom finally manages to look down at it. Their shoulders touch, and they both read the instructions together, Tom with panicky breaths and Chris with a furrowed brow. 

"I don't feel like peeing," Tom says, hiding his face on Chris' shoulder. 

"Will you want that water now?" Chris says with an indeterminate chuckle. Tom wants to tell him this isn't time for jokes, but can help a grin of his own. 

Chris gets him a glass of water and Tom drinks slowly, handing back the empty glass. Tom takes off his shoes, Chris crawling up to him on the bed. He comes to kiss him, and Tom turns his head away at first, but sighs against his lips when Chris' warm palm glides over the back of his neck. He can hear the wet sounds of their lips and tongues, and finds so much comfort in the kiss as he always does, mutely thanking Chris for his support with a caress to the side of his head. 

"Whatever happens," Chris says, dropping a kiss on Tom's hand as he lies and drapes his head on Tom's lap, looking up at him with calm, iridescent eyes. "Promise me we won't freak out," Tom opens his mouth to say something but Chris continues with a firmer tone, "Promise me we will deal with it." They stare at each other meaningfully, and there's an inner, serious quality behind Chris' words, and Tom gets it. 

He licks his lips, darts his eyes away and finally nods. "I promise." 

Tom can already feel his bladder filling, but he holds it back, postponing the time they'll know. Chris turns his head in his lap, circling Tom's hips with both arms and staring intently at his belly. Tom feels his throat fluttering, looking away, something soft prickling his chest. They spend minutes and more minutes in silence, and Chris flicks the hem of Tom's shirt up delicately, risking a careful glance up at him before returning to his analysis of Tom's belly, the pad of his thumb caressing the hollow of Tom's navel. 

Tom shudders, letting out a small gasp. "Chris," he bolts into action, batting Chris' hand away. 

Chris doesn't make much out of it, looking up at him from his casual position on Tom's lap. "Do you think you are?" He asks, voice low, as though they were sharing a secret. 

_Which we are,_ Tom's mind whispers to him. 

Tom's throat closes up, and he distinctly looks away. "I think it's time," he says, and makes to stand up. Chris rolls to the side cooperatively, instantly going to help him and retrieving the test. 

"Do you want me to go with you?" he asks, and Tom sighs. 

There's nothing about him Chris hasn't seen before and yet Tom has always struggled to fight his shyness whenever they do intimate things. He blamed it on the _peculiarity_ of his biology. They had already had sex countless times, Chris had already touched hands and lips and inserted fingers and tongue in almost - Tom blushes - all parts of his body, including the one he used to be so reluctant about. Tom would say no, because having his boyfriend watching him pee could be considered weird in his mind. But there's nothing absolutely sexual here apart from what they had already done, and which, they feared, had had a result they were about to discover now. 

"Yes," he says, and Chris nods, taking the test in his hands and following Tom into the bathroom. 

Tom pauses in front of the toilet, unbuttoning his jeans and sliding it down together with his underwear, his small penis falling forward as he sat down. Chris drops the test above the sink, and Tom gulps when seeing it, the thermometer-like tube and a plastic cup which is handed to him by Chris. Tom takes it gingerly, looking down as he adjusts the cup under himself. Chris leans against the sink, shooting Tom a supportive smile once he's done. 

They finally return to the bedroom, and Tom's stomach seems to have become a bundle of nerves, his heart palpitating in an excruciating pace. The test says the result comes up after three minutes, and once Chris drops the tube inside the plastic cup, they begin counting. 

Tom lies on the bed, hugging his stomach in a fetal position and Chris sits beside him, caressing his hair and slowly kissing his temple. "It's gonna be all right," he keeps whispering, and Tom lets his head rest on Chris' knee for comfort. 

They think about a thousand things during those three minutes, of their lives so far, of their parents and brothers and sisters. And although they don't know the answer yet, they always try to picture it while including a tiny presence in there. The result is absurd, and Tom's face scrunches up before Chris is soothing him again. 

Sooner than Tom would like, they approach the three minutes mark, the bottom of his stomach twisting and his mouth filling with saliva when Chris makes to stand up. "Chris," he whines, taking a hold of Chris' sleeve. Chris stops there, looks down at him with patient eyes. Tom swallows, lips flapping before he finally finds his words. "We can't do this," he murmurs, weakly. 

Chris sighs, hugging Tom closely. He doesn't say anything, barely kisses the crown of his head before he's up, coming to a stop with his finger poised above the test. Chris looks over his shoulder at Tom, who is fisting the duvet in agony. "Do you want to see it first?", he asks, and Tom promptly shakes his head. "No," he says, "You tell me." 

"Okay." 

Tom shuts his eyes, mind suddenly blank as he knows Chris is seeing the result. There's a pause, not too long and not too short, and Tom opens his eyes. Before Chris speaks, Tom already knows. 

"It's positive." 

Tom drops his eyes to the floor, strangely fond of everything in Chris' room, where they had spent so much time in. The small shelf containing comic books, the Star Wars posters and the action figures Chris still kept as a memory of his childhood. Childhood. Children. Tom shuts his eyes again. 

Chris comes up to him, embracing him so tightly. "I love you," he says, so strongly that Tom presses himself against Chris' chest, suddenly feeling so huge inside. He clings to Chris' shirt with a grunt, breathes him in, the familiar scent of him, remembers everything. From the first time they saw each other at school, when they talked amicably, not knowing that in a couple months they would be dating, not knowing the power of the bond that would unite them afterwards. Their first date, first kiss, the first time they made love on Tom's bedroom with the door locked and the windows shut, their skin so clammy and so good Tom wanted to cry. 

None of this would've happened if Tom was a proper boy, and Chris must've felt this was what he was thinking about because he kissed Tom in a hurry, drawing him closer. 

"We're so young," Tom says, meekly. He isn't crying but he's close to it, his nose running already. "Mom will kill me," he chuckles. There's nothing funny in it, because this is so absurd that how couldn't he laugh when he and Chris were having a child when they were supposed to be thinking about college? 

"She won't kill you," Chris whispers, patting his back with a broad hand. "She'll kill _me_. And then your father will bring out my soul to kill me again." 

Tom laughs shortly, and feels his tears falling. He isn't sad, it's not that. It was something he and Chris tried avoiding at all costs, and facing it now was very, very scary. Tom had no idea how his body would react, didn't even know if he could become pregnant without putting him or the baby or both in a very dangerous position. Physically, his body wasn't so feminine aside from his sex, his skin was soft in some places, his hips were slightly rounder than a boy's and his nipples were puffy, with only a small amount of soft skin surrounding it that could pass off as being baby fat he had yet to lose. But he had no idea how far it could go in terms of a pregnancy, not so say that his belly would grow and even though he and Chris tried being as secretive as they could there would come a day when no hiding could be done, and what would be of him, a boy, walking down the streets with a freaking pregnant belly? How would he go to school? Would his parents have to hide him inside his house forever? And if the baby was born, what would he say when people asked him who the mother was? 

Chris hugged him tighter, and Tom sniffled into his shoulder. He said nothing when Chris' cheeks became wet too, but after a while, after the sheer _shock_ of it, they lie down together and stare up at the ceiling, the sky darkening outside. 

Chris plays with one of his curls, pulling it softly and letting it bounce back in place as he likes to do. It's such a foreign thought: a tiny, tiny person shaped like a bean enveloped in the warmth of Tom's belly, growing there. Chris chuckles, and kisses Tom's forehead repeatedly. It's _their_ child, no one else's, and Chris feels such a great wave of protection overtaking him. He loved that grain of life since the first minute it had been conceived. Chris blinks and looks down at Tom. "When do you think it happened?" he asks, softly. 

Tom is still much too pale, mouth opening and closing in silence before he shruggs, burrowing closer to Chris. "Maybe," Chris says, trying to remember, "That day when we snuck into your room during Emma's birthday party." 

Tom gulps, for a minute looking like he's about to burst into tears. "I... No. That was the day my blood was supposed to come. Too late." 

Chris runs a hand down the back of Tom's neck. His boyfriend is shaking slightly, and it pains Chris. He'll do everything in his power to make sure Tom is okay with it. It takes much more out of the curly-blond than it does Chris. He won't have to bear their child, but Tom will, and the way it'll affect him can be crucial for their future. Chris wraps him in his arms, tightens his hold and tries to convey to him how Tom has turned into his whole world. 

"Chris," Tom murmurs, and Chris lets him go because he might be hurting him, but Tom has a gaping mouth, eyes filled with realization when he turns to look at Chris. "The weekend on the beach," he says, and it dawns on Chris like a current going from his feet up to his brain. 

"Shit," he can't help saying, because he remembers. Chris' parents owned a beach house down the coast, usually kept locked up until they decided to visit for the summer. But in the beginning of the month, they had convinced their parents to let them spend a weekend together, and their choice had been the beach house. It wasn't too difficult since their parents already knew they were having sex, having them sleeping in the same bed didn't raise any more eyebrows, and after a few phone calls between Tom's and Chris' mother they had agreed to let them go, on the condition that they were careful. 

_Careful_ , the word rings inside Chris' mind in his mother's soft voice. 

"Chris," Tom calls, "I didn't- I forgot to take my pills with me that weekend." 

"Oh," there's nothing Chris can actually say to any of that. He remembered taking some condoms with him to their trip but they didn't last for long. They were used to going without it mostly because Tom took his pills. If Chris had known though that Tom forgot them at home, well, perhaps he would've been more _careful_. "You didn't tell me." 

Tom whimpers, looking away at the window. "I didn't know there would be much problem if I went two days without it." 

It's useless, they're both guilty. The fault doesn't rely solely on Tom as much as it doesn't rely solely on Chris. It's way easier to make peace with that than Chris thought. "It's all right, baby," he soothes Tom as his boyfriend grimaces and hides his face. "We have to think about what we're gonna do now," Chris says, sighing. "You'll have to tell your doctor," he looks down at Tom, and after a beat he nods. "And we'll need to tell our families too." Tom flinches when Chris says that, and he can't really blame him, the words sound scary even to his own ears. 

"Oh god, Chris," Tom sniffles, digging his fingers into his temples. "I can't tell mom, please." 

"Shh, I'll go with you, Tom. I'll go with you wherever." 

Tom seems a little more stabilized with that, but his eyes are still terribly teary. He pauses and turns to look at Chris, his thin chest jumping with his breaths. "Just not, not right now, okay?" Tom comes up to embrace his neck, and Chris can't deny him anything. "Not right now, let's wait. I need some time. We'll wait, promise?" 

Chris knows it's not the best decision. Their parents should be informed. But Tom looks so tired and shaken, and so is he. It's too much for a single day. No, Tom is right, they'll rest and think more clearly and then think about telling their parents. Chris grabs Tom's cheeks to make him face him, and Tom does so with red cheeks and a swollen nose, face glistening with tears. "All right," Chris says. Tom sags in relief against him, and Chris hugs him all the tighter. "But you'll have to tell your doctor. Everything, okay?" 

He can feel Tom gulping next to his shoulder, knowing he didn't take well to that. "But, she'll tell mom, what if she tells mom?" 

"Just tell her not to, isn't there a confidentiality for that?" 

Tom sighs, and Chris distributes kisses on both his cheeks. "I'll go with you," Chris assures, a thumb lifting Tom's chin up to face him. "I'll go with you to the doctor, okay?" 

"Thank you," Tom grumbles, nose buried in Chris' neck. 

Chris smiles, hand straying to Tom's waist. It's enormous to realize that he's going to a be a father, and it leaves him breathless. All his life, the plans. It was probably all for nothing. He'd need to get a job, Tom would need to stay home to be with the baby. A change for their whole lives. Still, something soft bloomed in Chris' chest, thinking of all the things he would teach and show to this new life that was half his, half Tom's.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I'm sorry, because I won't be able to update this frequently, so this will always stay as a complete fic, which it may or may not be. I know some people may not like it but it's better than nothing, so...
> 
> Enjoy and Happy New Year!!

"Chris!" It's Liam's voice, Chris can tell even though he has just woken up. Blinking blearily, he shifts his arm up his face to hide his eyes from the sunlight, but Liam is relentless, and bats it away. "Wake up, come on, you're late. Don't you have to pick up your boyfriend or something?"

Chris groans, throwing the sheets aside to fight his sleepiness. He had completely lost track of time, and watching Liam's young and round face in his room gives him the creeps since the incident when Liam had found Chris' box of condoms and did him the favor of telling his mother.

"Get out, Liam," he mumbles, but it's half-hearted because he takes one look at the clock on his bedside table and springs out of bed, muttering a low "Shit," before hurrying to the bathroom, almost knocking Liam off his feet. His younger brother shouts a "Hey!" that is promptly heard by their mother downstairs, and just as Chris is closing the door to the bathroom he hears her scream: "What's going on up there?"

Sighing, Chris rests against the door, shutting his eyes until his eyelids ache before moving to the shower.

It's strange, this feeling of keeping a secret, normally Chris had no qualms about hiding things from his parents and brothers, like his and Tom's condoms or Tom's underwear that he sometimes liked to keep to himself - to Tom's immense embarrassment. But they were all petty secrets, intimate things that really had no place at the family table, nothing like _this_. This _pregnancy_.

The water splashes over his face, and though he's late, Chris reclines against the shower wall, sputtering excess water from his mouth. A cold shower does wonders to wake him up, but to avoid further rational thinking, he grabs the soap and finishes the process as fast as he can.

Tom is probably waiting for him by now, sat at the edge of the front steps to his house, a fist tucked under his chin as he waited for Chris to pick him up. And surely, as Chris exits the bathroom and climbs down the stairs hurriedly, his phone beeps with a message.

 _'where are u?'_ Chris reads as he enters the kitchen, his mother glancing up at him before smiling while his father looks up from his newspaper.

"Where is Luke?" Chris asks, missing the shorter silhouette of his brother at the breakfast table.

"Good morning to you too, darling," his mother says pointedly, getting up from her seat to wash her dishes. "Your brother left earlier for work, " Leonie continues, and Chris grabs an apple from the bowl, typing a hurried _'I'm on my way'_ before taking a bite. "He's got a conference, I think- Wait, what is this?" his mother asks as Chris goes for the door, barely hiking on his backpack before grabbing his car keys. He halts, turns back to look at her, a hand on the doorknob and apple held between his teeth. Had she seen something? Noticed something different in him that screamed 'me and Tom are having a baby'? "Won't you eat properly, Chris? Only an apple?" Leonie asks instead, hands on her hips and a mild reproachful look.

"I'm late," Chris says, internally breathing in relief.

"You're an athlete now, son," his father pipes in, probably instigated by Leonie's expectant gaze to agree with her. "You gotta eat like it."

"I'm fine," Chris shrugs, "Gotta pick Tom up, bye," he says before his mother can add something else, which she does anyway when he's closing the door. "Have a nice day, tell Tom I sent him a kiss."

Turning on the car, Chris has only got a few minutes to himself before he's turning on Tom's street. He feels that distinct prickling feeling next to his heart, the one he always got since he and Tom started going out almost one year ago. Chris can already spot him, sat in the front steps to his house just like he had imagined, biting at the tip of his thumb with a faraway gaze. He looks up when Chris comes to a stop though, getting up from his seat to open the door to the passenger seat and hop inside.

"Good morning, babe," Chris says, neck stretching for his kiss. Tom smiles tightly, and gives him a quiet peck along with a crisp "Morning". Tom doesn't look sad, but he's not happy either, face unreadable as he looks out the window and Chris proceeds on their way to school.

"Sorry I'm late," Chris says, and Tom turns to him, gives a small grin before looking away. "Liam had to wake me up."

"I spoke with my doctor," Tom puts in, suddenly.

"Oh," Chris makes, shifting his eyes to him quickly. "What did she say?"

"I sent her an email," Tom replies, "Just to schedule the appointment. I said it was urgent, and she said I could go in this Friday, at five." He looks back at Chris, and Chris nods firmly.

"I'll take you."

Tom grins softly, and Chris runs a hand on his thigh for comfort. There's a smudge of bran on the corner of Tom's lips, and Chris waits until they stop at a red light to brush a thumb over it. "There," he says, punctuating with a kiss to his forehead. Tom sighs through his nose and smiles. "My mother sent you a kiss," Chris remembers.

"She's so sweet," Tom chuckles, and grabs his backpack as Chris parks at their school. They walk hand-in-hand towards the entrance, dodging the students that laugh and walk down the hallway. They stop at Tom's locker, where he can load his books while Chris leans beside him, greeting some of his friends from the football team with a hearty pat to the back as they pass him.

"Hey, Chris," comes a soft voice from behind him, and Chris turns to see Rebecca, the blond girl from his Math class who is also on the cheerleading squad. She smiles up at him, bracketed by two of her female friends.

"Hi, Becca," Chris answers warmly, followed by the loud sound of Tom's locker banging shut beside him. He turns to look back at his boyfriend and finds Tom seething, sending a lethal look Rebecca's way. Chris fights the urge to smile, and Rebecca nods before continuing, apparently ignoring Tom. "How are you doing? My mother is doing her charity ball this Saturday, here," she hands him an invitation, golden words written in cursive atop the white envelope. "I think she invited your mother already, but it's always good to be sure," she giggles.

"Ah, thank you," Chris says. "I'll do my best to go."

"Great," Rebecca smiles, and turns on her heels before waving over her shoulder. "Bye, Chris, hope to see you there. Bye, Tom."

Tom raises an eyebrow at her retreating form, and without ever taking his gaze away, snatches the envelope from Chris' hands, giving it a bland look before turning fuming eyes to him. "What?" Chris asks, and as Tom grabs his things and gives him his back, Chris laughs, wrapping an arm around his waist. "Hn, I love jealous Tom so much."

"I hate her," Tom hisses, turning sharply to him. "And _Becca_ , what the fuck?"

Chris shrugs. Rebecca was his friend since middle school. "She has a boyfriend," Chris clarifies, "And she's actually very nice, did you know she likes Star Wars?"

Tom puffs, "She says that because she _wants_ to _look_ nice." Chris grabs his hand but Tom shakes it away, lips firm and cheeks flaming. "Hey," he murmurs, grabbing Tom's chin between his thumb and forefinger. "I love you, and only you," he says, and Tom blinks at him, though his resolve is visibly breaking. Tom tsks and bats Chris' hand away, but lets his hand be held as they walk in the direction of Chris' locker.

Chris drops him at his class, both hands on Tom's face as he kisses him. "I'll see you at lunch, right?" Tom nods quietly and enters the classroom as Chris goes.

×

History class is boring as hell, and Chris has given up on trying to understand what his teacher has to say, instead doodling on the edges of his notebook. He hears a snicker coming from behind him and turns to see two of his friends exchanging notes. He sighs, and his mind is overtaken with thoughts. Tom is making him worried, he isn't his cheerful self, instead turning silent and moody, faraway. 

It's the pregnancy, Chris is sure, and just thinking about it has his stomach uncomfortable. Their Biology class from last semester was about reproduction. _One more reason why we could've been more careful,_ he thinks, but sends the thought away. Pregnant women went through a lot, Chris remembers, nausea, mood swings, hunger, aches all over the body, and it pains Chris to imagine Tom going through all of that while still having to deal with school. He was fairly certain that once Tom started showing he wouldn't want to come to his classes though, and they would have to find a way to dodge the problem. Perhaps he could be home schooled, or even, they could explain the situation to someone higher up the school hierarchy that would let him show up only for his tests. Still, there would be people, and they would _see and know_. 

_My beautiful Tom,_ Chris thinks. He wants to hug him, to protect him from judgment and the scary situation they are in, but knows it is impossible now. 

Chris scribbles down on the page furiously until the sheet rips under the ink of his pen, and he sighs, letting the pen drop with a click before his cell phone vibrates in his pocket. Startling, Chris takes a quick look around before digging it out. It's a message from Tom: _'chris I'm not feeling well'_ , it says, and Chris' heart races, hunching over the phone. 

_'what are u feeling? where are u?'_

_'class'_ , Tom answers the second question, and not two seconds later: _'I'm going to the bathroom.'_

_'which one?_ Chris asks, but Tom stops responding. 

Breathing harshly, Chris lifts his eyes to the teacher, his voice nothing but a noise to his ears. He looks back down at his phone, at Tom's profile picture: his head thrown back in a smile, eyes shut with Chris's face curling on his neck. His heart shrinks, and Chris rises from his seat, the teacher not sparing him a look as he exits the classroom, taking a look at both sides of the hallway. 

Tom has English as his third class, and Chris hurries down the way he remembers Tom's classroom is at. It takes him one whole minute to reach it, and he scans the hallway in search of the boys' bathroom, finding it at the end and almost skidding on the floor as he comes to a stop in front of it, barreling past the door and waiting perhaps for half a second before he hears the sound of someone retching coming from one of the stalls. 

"Tom?" he asks, loudly, following the sound and stopping in front of the stall, seeing the back of Tom's sneakers peeking from beneath the door. "Tom," he gasps, listening to Tom's ragged breaths coming from the other side of the door until the lock turned and out came Tom, gaze cast to the floor, lips shiny with spit. 

"Oh, babe," Chris' heartstrings pull at the sight. Tom clamps a hand on Chris' shirt to keep him away, going for the sink, where he hunches over and spits. Chris turns the faucet, dabbing some of the water on Tom's cheeks and neck, cleansing his lips. "What happened, what are you feeling?" 

Tom hiccups shortly, his stomach twisting in a loud grumble. He hated puking, can still feel the bitter tang of it in the back of his throat. He doesn't say anything, only listening to the sound of the water running, immobile under Chris' ministrations. He is glad to see his clothes were unscathed, but the smell wafting inside the bathroom leaves him dizzy almost. Chris grabs some paper towels, leaning Tom's hips against the sink before coming to dry his face. 

"A girl," Tom sniffles, making a face and taking the paper from Chris' hands to clean his nose. "From my class," he continues, "With a terrible perfume." 

"Shh, it's alright," Chris whispers, swiping a broad and wet hand up Tom's forehead. 

"It was awful, she sat right next to me," Tom said, taking measured breaths before pausing and looking up at Chris, his eyes so meaningful. 

Chris doesn't know what to say. He had been expecting it, really, didn't know why it hadn't come sooner. 

"Come, let's go," Chris says instead, throwing the papers at the bin and putting a gentle, supportive hand on Tom's back. 

"Where to?" 

"I'm taking you home." 

They exit the bathroom, and the fresh air helps Tom recuperate. "No, I can't," he protests brokenly. 

Chris sighs, "Tom, please, you're ill-" 

"I'm not ill, Christopher," Tom retorts, gulping once before taking a quick look around and turning back to him. "I'm pregnant." 

It's the first time one of them actually says it, and Chris is taken aback. Tom gulps while looking fiercely at him, sparing a quick look over his shoulder before shifting on his feet. Chris can feel his mouth gaping, and clicks it shut. He wished there was something he could do to remedy their situation, but Tom sighs softly, giving him those huge and innocent eyes. "If you take me back home, mom will want to know what happened." 

"We can say you had a headache," Chris says, because Tom's well-being always comes first. 

Tom shakes his head, chuckles lowly. "She'll think I'm sick and start looking for other signs, and knowing her the way I do she'll find it." 

Chris grins in defeat. He doesn't want to make Tom uncomfortable, so he doesn't push it. "All right, but you're not going back to that class with the shit-smell girl," Tom smiles a little to that. "You wait here, I'll go get our stuff and we can go for lunch, okay?" 

Tom nods and watches Chris go even though eating was the last thing on his mind now. He takes a seat at a random bench and swipes a hand over his belly. There was nothing different with it, Tom had poked it from all angles, and it was still the same flat, soft belly he had always possessed. What truly worried him was when it would start to grow, and then Tom would have to hide it. He had looked up on the internet how to hide a pregnant belly and was considering the idea of going shopping for larger clothes. 

Chris comes back and together they head to the cafeteria, waiting for less than two minutes before it opens and the bell rings. They're first on the line, though, and have the privilege of choosing their table. They go with the one at the far wall, where Tom can stare at his plate and try to convince himself to eat. 

"Tom," Chris says, turning his eyes pointedly to his food. 

Tom sighs, shoulders hunching. "I don't feel like eating anything, Chris." 

"You have to, you just threw up." 

"But I'll turn fat faster than I'm supposed to," Tom grumbles with a sigh, letting go of his fork. Chris just watches him, trying to engrain in his mind that Tom had just said that. 

"You won't turn fat, Tom, you'll turn healthy enough to feed a baby." 

Chris can practically see the way Tom grits his teeth. "I'll turn huge, Christopher-" 

"Tom?" came a bright voice, and they looked up to find Andrew, Tom's friend from the drama club, standing next to their table with his tray in hand, eyes going from Chris to Tom. Chris instantly freezes, wondering how much he had heard. "Can I seat with you?" 

"Oh, Andrew, sure, just let me," Tom takes his backpack from the vacant seat beside him, and Andrew sits down, sparing Chris a quick smile. Tom keeps his gaze lowered, only lifting it to stare at Chris mutely. 

There's silence for a few seconds, and Chris clears his throat, uncomfortable. Andrew looks like he regrets taking the seat, probably thinking he had interrupted them in a not so happy moment. "Uhn, Andrew," Tom makes himself say, affecting normalcy, "How was class?" 

Andrew answers kindly, and as he and Tom start talking, Chris takes some time to analyze Tom's friend, but it seems he really hadn't listened to anything important. He and Tom would have to be more careful from now on if they wanted to keep it a secret. 

× 

Instead of waiting for Chris' practice to finish, Tom takes the bus home, messaging when he finally arrives at his doorstep. He had survived the last of his classes, absently taking notes while trying to force himself not to palm his belly all the time. 

His mother isn't home yet, there's only Emma, Sarah having gone to work. Tom enters the house and locks the door, sighing and making his way up the stairs to his room. He has homework, but he flings his backpack above his study table and falls face first on the bed. 

"Tom?" It's Emma, chin propped on the door frame, head peeking quietly. 

Tom groans in response, the sound muffled against the pillow. He hears Emma sighing in that familiar, longsuffering sigh that is typical of her age. "Tom, there's someone on the phone for you." 

That makes him raise his head, "Who is it?" 

Emma shrugs, leaving the phone above his table. Tom struggles to rise, and once he does, answers with a small "Hello?" 

"Hello, Mr. Hiddleston, this is from Dr. Hart's office," a female voice replies, and Tom's spine instantly straightens. "The next appointment of the day has been canceled, and Dr. Hart wants to know if you'd like to come in today instead of Friday." 

"Oh," Tom mumbles, looking around his room without knowing what to do. "Uhn, I don't know, what time is it for?" 

There's a pause until she flicks a paper. "In twenty minutes." 

He'd need to call Chris, they could talk to his doctor instead of waiting until Friday. Maybe she could give him some tips, could advise them better as an adult and responsible person aware of the fact. "Okay, I will, I will see. Can I return the call in a few minutes?" 

"Of course, Mr. Hiddleston, but please don't take long as there are other patients awaiting." 

"Okay, okay, I won't. Hn, thank you, bye." Tom hangs up, standing still at his room for a minute before going to his cell phone. He dials Chris' number, and it rings six times. Cursing under his breath, he calls yet again, and it's not until the fourth ring that Chris answers with an out-of-breath "What?" 

"Chris, my doctor said she can see me now instead of Friday," he says, not wasting any time. 

There's a pause, a rustle of statics as Chris breathes. "Right now?" 

"In twenty minutes," there's another pause. "Where are you?" 

"Practice," Chris answers, and there's definitely his coach's voice saying something at a distance. Chris says something back, and for a minute Tom just stands there trying to make out what they were talking about. Chris goes back to him with a hurried. "Okay, we'll go, I'll take you. Just spoke with my coach. Wait for me at your doorstep, right? I'll take a shower first so no need to hurry." 

"Great," Tom nods to himself, running a hand over his curls. They hang up after that, Tom depositing the phone on his table and then turning on his heels quickly, gaze falling on his window with a sigh. 

He was anxious, heart beating frantically. They would finally tell someone, and acknowledging that makes him antsy, half fearful and half hopeful that they were wrong, that the test was a fake positive and there was something else going on with him that had nothing, nothing to do with a baby. _But the nausea_ , he remembers, and just thinking about it has his stomach twisting again, but Tom holds it back with a breath, settling two fingers on the hollow of his throat as he swallows. _It's gonna be okay,_ he repeats to himself in Chris' voice, and opens his wardrobe's bottom drawer, kneeling and reaching deeply into it until retrieving the test, stationary in its positive sign. Tom huffs, and throws it inside his backpack, pulling the zipper with a brief _zip_. 

"Where are you going?" Emma asks once he shuts the door to his room. He hadn't seen her, and turns sharply to see that she was at the hallway, hand poised on the door frame leading to her own room, from where Tom can hear a faint pop music coming from. She has on this weird expression, a quirk on her eyebrows that shows she's suspicious. 

"Oh, Emma," Tom mumbles, clearing his throat and letting go of the doorknob to fix his backpack's straps over his shoulder. He probably had the word 'guilty' written in red, bold letters on his forehead, with the way he could feel his face paling, the wide roundness of his eyes and the nervous tick of his fingers. His little sister could smell his uneasiness from half a mile away. 

Tom couldn't have Emma knowing where he was going. If he did, she would certainly tattle on him to his mother. "Me and Chris are going to the movies," he says instead, letting his hip cock to the side in what he hopes is a nonchalant but also superior position, challenging Emma to question that. 

But his little sister is smart, her lips twisting as she replies, "But today is Wednesday, isn't Chris on football practice?" 

Tom takes a steadying breath, chin lifting only slightly as he takes that in. Emma watches him with a small pout, a faint blush on her cheeks that shows she still isn't over her little crush on Chris, turning beet red whenever Chris is around, uncommonly silent and kept-together, whiny and jealous when he and Tom kiss or go out, memorizing his damn practices' schedule to use it against Tom. 

"He's leaving earlier today," Tom says, with a sigh and a roll of his eyes, giving Emma his back as he turns to go down the stairs. 

"Mom will know about this," Emma retorts while Tom is halfway down the steps. Tom gaps, and turns to look at his little sister, standing at the top of the stairs, lips thin and fists hanging beside her form, looking like a proper brat on her freaking Sponge Bob shirt. 

"Fine," he hisses in a mock blithe tone. Emma turns back the way she came from with a tiny humph, feet unnecessarily loud. Tom groans and shakes his head, closing the front door after him and pulling out his cell phone to warn Dr. Hart's office that he was on his way for the appointment. 

He takes his usual seat at the front steps, eyeing the street calmly, wind blowing back his curls. Thinking better on it, he sends his mother a quick text: ' _mom, chris was out from practice earlier, we're going to the movies, 'kay?_ '. The lie makes him uncomfortable, but he supposes he'll have to get used to it now. 

Tom waits for five minutes, and he begins to grow worried that they'll miss the appointment, but soon enough Chris pulls up at the curb, an arm stretched above the steering wheel as he unlocked the door for Tom. "Sorry," Chris begins by saying, Tom climbing inside. He didn't know why Chris had such a tall car, it was always a struggle to get in. _Imagine doing it with a pregnant belly._ He shudders, and turns to give Chris a quick peck. 

Tom's phone buzzes in his pocket, and he digs it out to read his mother's answer. ' _ok darling, don't come back too late._ ' 

"I told my mom you left earlier from practice and that we're going to the movies, so is she asks you..." Tom trails off pointedly, and Chris nods with a grin, shrugging and making a face as he intones "Oh, yes, the movie was good, Diana, but I think it lacked action, most of the scenes were too slow." 

Tom smiles fondly, shaking his head and staring out the window. 

× 

Dr. Hart glances at Chris with an unveiled sentiment that he's grown to understand as an accusation, darting her eyes back to Tom as she softly tells him to inhale and shifts the cold tip of her stethoscope over his boyfriend's pale chest. 

Chris stands beside Tom, not really knowing what to do as his boyfriend sits there and is examined. He chooses to take a curious look around the office, not leaving his spot as his eyes swim around. 

Dr. Hart was a woman in her forties, though her skin was polished and not at all telling of her age, black, straight hair falling at her shoulders where her salmon-pink button-up peeks from her white cloak. She wafts out a soft, unobtrusive perfume that reminds Chris of cold living rooms and flower pots basking in the sunlight. Her office has tall shelves and a wide desk, everything meticulously decorated in soft hues of pink and white, the walls creamy and full of charts detailing functions and organs of a woman's reproductive sex. 

"Good," Dr. Hart says, and Chris turns to see that she's talking to Tom as his boyfriend lies back down on the white stretcher, wearing that thin, foamy robe that Chris had chuckled at before Dr. Hart had sent him a _look_. "You usually come here with your mother, Tom," the doctor says, motioning to prop Tom's feet up two levers beside the stretcher, and Chris instantly avoids looking though he had seen Tom there a thousand times before. 

He and Tom exchange a look at the doctor's seeking jab, and Tom's throat bobs as he lies there and stares at the ceiling, his lips pale. "She's at work," he responds, followed by the doctor's quiet hum. 

Peeking quietly, Chris sees as she snaps her white gloves on with practiced ease, plastic fingers parting the bottom of Tom's robe before she goes up again, prodding around Tom's nipples, face straight and professional as she descends and massages his belly, halting and staring down at it, eyes widening only slightly before she glances up at Tom, who remains mute. Continuing on, she doesn't say anything as she pats at the juncture of Tom's thighs, eyebrows slightly pinched as she goes lower, ignoring his penis and the small sack, instead widening Tom's labia to take a look. 

Chris doesn't know what she expects to see there, she only helps Tom's feet off the levers, nods to herself and takes off her gloves, going for the small sink at the edge of the room and throwing them at a bin that she opens with a foot, washing her hands with a flowery-scented liquid soap. Tom sits up, eyes cast down, and Chris helps him, fastening the thin robe around his frame. Tom lets him, his pale and long fingers resting on Chris' wrist, cold. 

There's an evident pause that they seem to brace themselves for before Dr. Hart asks them over her shoulder. "Is there something you wish to tell me, Tom?" 

Chris has never felt intimidated by an older woman that wasn't his mother, so when Dr. Hart leans against the sink and watches them carefully with a serious face, hands inside the pockets of her cloak, Chris casts his eyes down. Tom does nothing other than opening and closing his lips, so quietly nervous to be inquired that Chris lifts his head and nods for him. "Actually, Dr. Hart," Chris says, his voice breaking the silence and echoing around the room for the first time. He likes how steady and firm it sounds. "There's something we both wish to tell you." 

The doctor watches him with the same impassive face before finally nodding. "Ok. Why don't you go change back into your clothes so we can talk, Tom?" 

Chris chooses to ignore the way she only seems to acknowledge Tom's presence in the room, instead helps Tom get up from the stretcher, collecting his hands. "Do you want me to tell her?" he asks, because he _knows_ Tom, knows how fidgety and scared he is, knows how ashamed he gets if he thinks someone has a reason to find him unintelligent or uncareful. 

Tom licks his lips timidly, his eyes so huge. "Please," he says, meekly. Chris nods, kissing his forehead. He can hear Dr. Hart's high heels clicking as she walks towards her desk, can feel her gaze on them. "The test is in my backpack," Tom whispers back to him, calmly walking towards the adjoining bathroom at the edge of the room, the thin robe falling around his knees. Chris watches him go, and once Tom closes the door, turns to the doctor, who is waiting for him at her desk, fingers crossed above it, watching him from beneath her eyelashes. Chris takes the seat in front of her, swallowing once, hands poised above his knees. 

"So, young man," she begins, "it seems you're Tom's boyfriend." 

Chris fights back the urge to bristle. "Yes, Christopher Hemsworth," he says, not wanting to be called 'young man' through the duration of the conversation. 

Dr. Hart nods, raising a thin eyebrow before letting it drop. "For how long have you been dating?" 

"Almost one year," Chris says, without batting an eye. "Eleven months to be more precise." 

"I believe your parents know about it?" 

Chris pauses, not knowing what exactly she is referring to. 

"You two dating, Mr. Hemsworth," she elaborates with a downwards tilt of her chin. 

"Yes, yes, they've always known about it." Chris says, feeling a string of anger for having her implying that he and Tom were in some form of clandestine relationship, or even, were just fucking for fun. 

"Good," she says, clipped, collecting a sheet of paper from one of her drawers with a sigh. "I noticed something different with Tom," the doctor continues, lifting her eyes to him. "And seeing how he wanted to schedule the appointment with urgency, I think, Christopher, that I have a very good tip on what is going on." Chris squares his jaw, he's not afraid of her judgmental eyes. "You said your parents know about your relationship so I presume they gave you some kind of warning. About sexual intercourse and things of the sort?" 

Chris nods, blushing only slightly at the mention of it. His mother had made his father go talk to him, but his old man was so reticent and so red in the face that once Leonie gathered that he wouldn't be able to, she came to talk to Chris herself, not letting him go in less than an hour. It was protocol, since Luke had gone through the same when he had his first girlfriend. 

"So I assume you two used protection, Christopher?" Dr. Hart asks, pressing the button to her pen with a click and quickly writing something at the top of a chart. 

"We did," he says. The doctor gave a small grin to that, but before Chris could continue, she went on. 

"Tom came here with his mother one year ago, told me he had started dating. I told him to be careful with the person he chooses, he's after all, a very special boy, it's not anyone that is comfortable with having an intersexual partner." She pauses, sighing through her nose and looking at Chris pointedly. "From what I can see, there's no problem in that matter. You seem to like him, and the feeling seems to be mutual, Christopher." 

Chris gulps to that, internally bashful, smiling shortly. 

"For having a son like Tom," Dr. Hart continues, "his mother grew very protective of him, which I honestly can't blame her for. People can be very mean, right?" Chris nods. "So I can understand that Tom feels somehow trapped by her in some regards, even more so in sexual ones, which directly affect you, I'm sure." She smiles, her bracelets tickling melodically as she begins writing. Chris feels the tiniest bit like she's growing on him. "The point is that as his doctor," she pauses, falling back against her chair and retrieving something in another drawer. Dr. Hart seems troubled, brows pinching as she takes a thin-rimmed glass from a pink case and perches it atop her nose. "As his doctor, I'm also responsible for Tom, and I'm not happy in the slightest that this has happened to him. To you both, I mean." 

Chris' smile falls. 

"Don't take me wrong, Christopher. I'm sure I'm not the only person who is going to say that to you, I'm in fact only the first, if your conscience hasn't already. I'll tell you now because telling Tom this can be a bit too much for him," she glances at the bathroom's door to make sure Tom is still taking his sweet time. She leans closer to Chris above the table, crossing her arms for support, her rolling chair creaking smoothly in protest. "Tom came to me two months after your relationship started," Chris already knows where she's going with this. "Without his mother knowing," she raises her index finger for that. "He said you knew about him, and that you two were ready to start your sexual lives together. I told him this could happen, he said he understood, so I prescribed him his pills. One month later, his mother calls me, and says she found the pills in his bag." 

Chris remembers that... 

Dr. Hart nods to him with a grimace. "She didn't like it, as you can imagine. But seeing as we were both protecting him, and since she knew someday this would happen, there wasn't much problem. I don't need to tell you how she'll feel about this. I don't believe Tom has told her." 

"He hasn't." Chris shakes his head. 

"So you'll understand, Christopher, that Tom is also disappointing me." She stares at him with a hard face, not really much different from the usual, but her eyes are a little sad. "I put myself at risk for prescribing him pills without his mother's consent. The least he could do was use it properly. As for you..." She trails off, sending him a look that makes Chris shudder inside. "If you said you know that condoms exist, I have nothing else to tell you other than you disappoint me as well." Chris gulps, biting his lower lip and concentrating his gaze on his knees. He feels like a scolded child. "But let's stop here." Dr. Hart says, falling back against her chair. "What is done, is done, and now what we all have to focus on is Tom. He'll need help, Christopher, and you'll be there to help him, won't you?" She stares at him from above the rim of her glasses, but this Chris can answer without any difficulty. 

"I will." 

She nods, and as if on prompt, they hear the door opening. Tom comes out in his clothes, a hand on his elbow as he takes small steps towards them. His eyes meet Chris', silently asking. Chris smiles softly in return, pulling the other chair closer to himself so when Tom sits, their shoulders touch. 

"Tom," Dr. Hart says, the harshness of her features softening. She begins to grow on Chris again, since he knows she wants to make Tom as comfortable as possible, saving the scolding for Chris, who can handle it better. "I was telling this young man that I noticed something different on you." 

Tom turns to look at Chris, eyes questioning. Chris kisses his forehead, and Tom gulps, nodding. 

"A glow, I would say." Dr. Hart continues, hands searching for a stamp that she uses to imprint the paper she had been writing on. Tom smirks quietly, blushing. "How did you find out?" She asks, out of the blue, cutting to the chase, and Chris is glad they can now speak about it in open terms. Tom has his hands folded above his lap, taking in a deep breath. "Dr. Hart, I-" He shoots Chris a quick look for courage, and turns back to her. "Me and Chris, we went to a trip. Together."

She hums, "Romantic."

"But I," Tom turns to Chris again, his eyes so huge, and Chris lays a gentle hand at his back. "I forgot my pills," he admits with a sigh. "It was only for two days, I didn't know there'd be a problem. It was only two days. I swear." Tom seems a little frantic, and Chris envelopes his hands in his for comfort.

Dr. Hart seems far from wanting to make him cry either, so she nods. "I didn't use condoms," Chris confesses when Tom looks down and sniffles, staring at her right in the eyes. It wasn't only Tom's fault, and he wanted to make this clear.

The doctor grins, nodding once at him. "Well," she sighs, "That is decent. But how did you find out?"

"My blood took too long to come. I grew worried." Tom responds, and makes to take his backpack from the floor but Chris retrieves it for him in advance. Dr. Hart watches them intensely.

"Chris said we should do a test," Tom gets the test from his backpack, silently handing it to the doctor, who reaches out to get it. She eyes the positive sign without a word, only humming and giving it back to Tom, who throws it back inside his backpack.

"I see," she murmurs, and glances at her clock. "Well, first things first. An ultrasound," she says, handing them the paper she had written on and stamped. "You can ask for it at a clinic," the

doctor twists her lips. "I can appoint you some friends of mine that would be more... comprehensive."

Chris breathes quietly in relief, "Thank you," he says. Having to explain why his _boy_ friend wanted an ultrasound of his _uterus_ to a random clinic doctor was really something Chris didn't want to go through. Dr. Hart smiles tightly and nods his way.

Tom is looking down at the paper as if it's going to bite him, and Chris throws his arm around his shoulders, smiling and kissing his cheek.

"You'll be able to know the baby's age, though I can tell it's probably one month old."

 _One month,_ Chris sighs, staring at the paper as well.

"And the sex?" Tom asks abruptly, lifting his eyes to Dr. Hart.

Her eyebrows lift a little and she smiles. "Only time will tell. It's still too early to know."

"Oh," Tom mumbles, blushing when he feels Chris' eyes on him.

"But there are other things we should discuss, Tom," Dr. Hart speaks. "First, your breasts will come-"

Tom gasps, looking back at her with a gaping mouth. "They will?"

Chris looks down at where Tom's nipples should be under his shirt, considering them. "They will," he can hear Dr. Hart affirming. "But they'll grow slowly, no need to worry, most of the milk only comes at the end of term." She smirks, "And as it is, I believe you'll both enjoy them," she winks at Chris, and he can feel his face heating impossibly, Tom turning sharply to look at him as Chris hides his smile with a hand. _Oh god_.

"But seriously now," she states, conquering their attention. "Something worries me, Tom."

Chris turns rigid, bringing Tom closer to his chest.

"Your hips are too narrow," she concludes, crossing her fingers above the desk again. "Even if they're not as narrow as they could be, it won't be enough for the birth."

Chris can feel Tom's uneasiness, the way his breaths turn ragged, staring at the doctor, eyes barely blinking. "The baby's growing weight will be a cause for much pain along your term. I was thinking a surgery," Tom shakes, shoulders hunching as he folds himself onto Chris. Dr. Hart licks her lips, but continues without batting an eye. "A cesarean when it completes eight months will be enough to ensure you'll escape the worst of the pain during the ninth month."

A surgery. They would cut Tom's belly open. Chris squeezes Tom to him. It seems everyday they learn it's not completely as difficult as they thought it would be yesterday.

"But," Chris gulps, "Is it risky? The pregnancy? Apart from Tom's hips?"

Dr. Hart analyzes him for some time, and then she shrugs. "I don't know. It never happened before, there's no way to know. My guess is that if the body got this far without much of a problem, it's prepared to handle the rest. But then again that can have been plain luck."

Tom looks at her as if she's handing him his death sentence, and Chris has never felt so fearful. "That's why it's so important that you take care of yourself, Tom. That all of you do. If you feel anything different, if anything happens, you have to contact me immediately so we can check up on you. Right?"

Chris nods for him, Tom still a little shaken. Dr. Hart watches them, eyes flying from one to the other. "Good, it's settled, then," and smiles.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more! Thank you for leaving kudos and comments!

_"I'm not lying, it's a difficult process. My parents wanted me and Tyler to marry at first, not wasting a single breath if it wasn't to remind us how careless we were, how we were children who'd have to look after children. It really affected me, I thought about abortion more than once. But when little Jim was born we all fell in love with him, and he's been the most wonderful thing to have ever happened to me. The pregnancy sucks, my friends from school started gossiping, it was awful. But don't let that overtake you, you are bringing life to the world, so it means_ your _powerful. Don't doubt your strength, and take good care of your child, it's not to blame."_

 

Tom read the words while biting on the end of his thumb, eyes glassy before the monitor's light. He had gingerly looked up 'teen pregnancy' on the internet, and after dodging lots of doubtful websites, came to find this girl Rina's blog where she updated informations about her own precocious pregnancy, pictures of her increasing abdomen tagged as #5months, #7months. Her son, Jim, was now 2 years old, and the most recent posts contained amateur pictures of him in a high chair, smiling crookedly at the camera while faceless hands petted his round face. 

 

It was a comfort to Tom, finding support in people he had never met in his life. It wrung a sigh out of him, just thinking there were other people out there who had gone through that and survived, were happy and healthy. 

 

Tom licked his lips, clicking on the small box in the corner of the screen, typing on a short message to Rina. _'i'm seventeen and pregnant, still haven't told my parents but me and my boyfriend are dealing with it. what do I do?'_. Hopefully it wouldn't sound as desperate as it did in his head. 

 

There was a knock on his door and Tom started with a gasp, heart jumping before he moved and insistently clicked on the button to close the window. "What?" He shouted in response, leaning forward on the computer table in an aborted attempt to hide the screen from the door's view. His mother turned the doorknob, resting against the frame as she leveled him with a small frown. "Yes, mom," he said, attempting calmness as he propped his elbow on the table, scratching fingers on the nape of his neck though his heart continued beating frantically. 

 

"Dinner's ready," his mother responded, eyes shifting to the computer quickly before smiling. 

 

"Oh, right, I'll be down in a minute," Tom said, clearing his throat uncomfortably until his mother closed the door. Relieved, Tom turned off his computer, grabbing his phone from the table on the way out. 

 

Sarah and Emma were already at the table, Emma with her head on the tabletop while playing with her noodles, staring at it boredly. Their mother mumbled something about it that made Emma sigh and rest her head on her palm instead. When Tom took the seat opposite to hers Emma pouted. 

 

Sarah was talking quietly to their mother, something about her car, and Tom supposed there was another problem with it. He served himself and started eating. Aside from the day in the classroom, Tom hadn't had another nausea bout again. Sometimes he went without breakfast and didn't tell Chris, because of course his boyfriend wouldn't understand that the smell made Tom want to throw up, at least wouldn't view it as a good enough reason for not eating at all. 

 

"...doing, Tom?" 

 

"Hm?" Tom lifted his head, looking up at his mother, who diligently cleared the corners of her mouth with her napkin before going back to her own food. 

 

"I asked how Chris is doing, darling." 

 

"Ah," Tom mumbled, biting the inside of his cheek. "He's good." 

 

Emma perched on her seat at the mention of Chris, eyes narrowing in Tom's direction. His mother hummed in response. "He hasn't stopped by recently," she continued, her voice filling the otherwise silence over the table save for the cutlery tinkling softly as they ate. 

 

"He's busy with training," Tom supplied half-heartedly, staring down at his plate while taking his first bite. Gosh, his mother's cooking was delicious. 

 

"I see. Well, Emma told me you two have been going out a lot lately." 

 

Tom only looked up at his small sister, whose lip tugged up slightly. "We have," Tom replied, "Whenever he's not training." 

 

"Good. Tell him to stop by whenever he's free from training too. I wonder if he misses my cooking," his mother smiled, and finally turned her attention towards Emma, asking the girl after her grades in school. 

 

The overzealous, watchful eye his mother keeps on his relationship is terribly annoying. Most of the time Tom just feels like rolling his eyes every time she whisks his way with a soft hand that plays with his curls and asks if Chris has been treating him well. And the tabs she keeps on him, too. Whenever he and Chris go out, Tom isn't allowed to return after eleven, to perverse consequences such as having his mother come inquire Chris in the doorstep in her robes as to why they were returning that late and where had they gone to. 

 

Tom is almost finishing his dish when he realizes the girls aren't even close to halfway there. He can't help it, though. The food is really good and he hadn't realized he was that hungry. _Eating for two_ , he thinks, suddenly. 

 

Sarah laughs at the table before Emma starts bickering about something or other. Their mother smiles, and starts a tale about the family. The scenario is so normal, so casual, so much like the many others Tom had experienced in this same room before. Before he was hiding a growing child inside him under the table. 

 

The thought makes him dizzy. 

 

"...some more, Tom?" His mother is saying, and Tom gathers his wits fast enough. 

 

"Ah, no, mom, thanks, I've had enough." Sarah is looking at him peculiarly, but doesn't seem bothered to the point of saying anything against his behavior, flicking her eyes down to his plate and going back to her own. Tom pushes his plate a few inches away. "I think I'm going up to bed, 'night." 

 

He's going up the stairs, listening to the quiet murmur of his mother's voice downstairs when his phone vibrates in his pocket. He tucks it away on his bedside table and goes to take a shower. 

 

He hasn't yet decided whether the time he spends by himself makes it better or worse. When he's in the bathroom, it worsens, because he keeps looking for signs that he's showing. There is none yet, but just thinking about the day when he looks down at himself and is able to actually tell a swell makes him shiver from head to toes. 

 

Tom washes himself as quietly as he can, thinking about the homework he'd have to get started with if he planned on handing it out next Thrusday. He's sliding a hand between his legs to shamely wash himself _there_ when the door to his bathroom bursts open. 

 

Tom swallows his next breath, startling, and a thousand possibilities come up in his mind. He expects to see his mother or sisters screaming at him over how he could've ended up pregnant, expects to see his mother crying, or Chris panting, muttering excuses about how he hadn't been able not to tell his parents. But it's only his mother, who makes a small 'oops' when Tom snatches the towel and covers himself. 

 

"Calm down, love, there's nothing there I haven't seen before," she jokes, laughing sportingly at herself before waving it away. 

 

"Mom, you've never heard about privacy?" 

 

His mother doesn't dignify him with an answer, instead calmly rearranging his items above the sink. "You're acting a little off," she begins, and Tom sighs, turning the tap to cut out the water stream and leaning against the wet tiles. He isn't capable of washing his intimacy with his mother standing there. "Are you okay? Things with Chris all right?" 

 

"Yes, mom, I'm wonderful, and me and Chris are fine." 

 

She doesn't look convinced, her eyebrows rising. "Ok, but if something comes up, you know you can tell me, right?" Diana looks fondly at him, which drags a small grin out of Tom. 

 

"Sure, mom." 

 

"Good," she goes for the door, and Tom safely allows the water to come back. "Ah, and your pills are fine? Your tampons? I'm going shopping tomorrow, so if you need any more..." 

 

"No, I'm good, there's plenty still." His mother finally goes, and Tom is able to breathe normally again. He wouldn't be needing any more tampons or pills for the next eight months. He'd just have to keep making her buy it and hide them so it wouldn't be evident that he was having no use for it. Perhaps he could eat them. The thought makes him chuckle sourly. 

 

 

× 

 

 

Tom has no time to check his phone that night because as soon as he lies down on his bed he falls asleep. When he did have it checked though was the morning of the next day, when he awoke earlier than usual and went down the stairs to peruse the fridge after something eatable. There was a message from Chris, informing Tom that he'd called the clinic and scheduled the ultrasound for next week with a physician that wouldn't 'ask any questions'. 

 

Tom gulps down a glass of orange juice as he can't quite look the same way at milk again without feeling a literal pain in his chest. He takes a seat at the empty table and makes himself some toast. 

 

"Up early?" It's Sarah who asks, padding down the stairs in her flowery pajamas. Tom mumbles in response, and watches as his sister pours herself some of the milk. "Mom got to you last night?" She begins. Sarah is a fervent adept of small talk, and Tom really doesn't mind. It's useful in its own ways. 

 

Tom frowns, waiting until he had swallowed his toast before speaking. "Why?" 

 

Sarah shrugs, sets her glass in front of him and takes the seat opposite his. "Dunno, she was all 'Tom isn't feeling well' when you went to bed after dinner." Sarah yawns, "Figured she was going to give you a hard time, her little boy," she winks. 

 

Tom snorts, rolling his eyes. "More like her third daughter, that's what she thinks." 

 

Sarah laughs, but finishes with a small tsk, "That's evil, Tom." 

 

"And also true." 

 

Sarah keeps to herself until finishing her glass. Tom listens to the sounds she makes while washing it at the kitchen sink. 

 

Luckily, when his mother comes down the stairs there are no more toasts in front of Tom, because she ruffles his hair as she passes him, gives him good morning and asks if he'd like some eggs. Tom says yes, and eats twice. No one notices, not even Sarah, who has gone to lie on the sofa to turn on the morning news. 

 

 

× 

 

 

After a double period of Maths, Tom isn't that excited. But he smiles at Chris once he meets him at the cafeteria, where he's sat with his bunch of football friends. Tom nods politely to them, and laughs shyly when they tap and squeeze each other aside to make way for Tom to sit next to Chris. 

 

"Hey there, babe," Chris greets him. He's digging into his lunch like there's no tomorrow, and when he catches Tom looking, smiles balefully. "Practice in the afternoon, game tomorrow. Will you be fine catching the bus?" 

 

Tom shrugs, "I'll try not to slip and tragically hit my head on the pavement in a mortal blow, or whatever scenes you come up with." 

 

"Ouch," a friend of Chris's who had heard makes, and then sniggers. Chris scowls and taps him behind the head. "Are you in a bad mood?" Chris asks concernedly. 

 

"No," Tom shakes his head, and stabs a forkful of salad. "Maths, sorry." 

 

Chris hums, "Have you been eating okay?" 

 

Tom remembers eating twice for breakfast this morning, and blushes. "Yes," Chris looks interested, and Tom tells him. 

 

Instead of looking shocked or having any other reaction Tom had imagined he would, Chris beams, and looks _pleased_. Tom chuckles unbelievingly, but not with no amount of amusement. "You actually like it, don't you? Seeing me eating and getting all chubby like a little... mother hen," he said the last part in a low whisper, though it wasn't extremely necessary since the football bunch's table was always one of the loudest. 

 

"I'm not going to lie," Chris looks at him with a smart grin, "I do." 

 

Tom laughs, shakes his head, and once they're done, lets Chris kiss him against the wall before his PE class. 

 

 

× 

 

 

As though having an ultrasound scheduled for the next day wasn't enough of a bother to Tom, his mom had to do a small family dinner for someone's birthday in their house. Tom had resolutely locked himself up in his room while Sarah and Emma helped with the preparations, and it wasn't until his mother had banged on his door with a furious face that he had wordlessly slipped down the stairs to greet the guests. 

 

"Do you remember Julia?" Tom's aunt asks excitedly, pulling him by the shoulders until he's standing in front of a black-haired teenager. She looks about thirteen or twelve, with an exaggeration of dark eyeliner, dressed in military boots and a metal band shirt. 

 

"Hi, Julia," Tom greets politely, and Julia nods as though not very impressed with him. 

 

"Now, Julia, Tom's your cousin. Nice, isn't it?" Tom's aunt continues proudly, and Tom grins robotically. He knows why Julia's come out to look like a little rebel herself if her mother still talked to her as though she was three years old. Julia doesn't seem to think it so nice. "He's such a darling boy. Your mother said you're dating a football player?" His aunt turns suddenly to ask him, and though Tom frowns and feels like asking a big 'what does that have to do with anything?' he agrees. 

 

"That's lovely," his aunt continues, unconsciously leading Tom towards the kitchen by the shoulder. "I had my fair share of boyfriends myself in highschool," she sniggers, and Tom keeps his smile frozen in place. His mother and some ladies from the block are arranging the food over the counter, and the smell and sight of it has Tom's stomach groaning. "Oh, Julia is excited to go to highschool next year, aren't you, Julia?" 

 

Julia nods like there's someone forcing her to do so. Tom kind of feels bad for her. He can't picture her being excited about anything, really. 

 

His mother tells him to help, though, and soon enough Tom finds himself arranging pies and puddings in different tupperwares, sneaking small bites along the way. No one but Julia notices, but she doesn't say anything, and it comes as a shocking realization to Tom that he hasn't heard her voice at all, ever. 

 

Once the food is all settled the guests move to the living room, which leaves Tom perfectly by himself at the kitchen in the unwilling company of Julia, who takes out a cell phone in a Harry Potter themed case and sits opposite him at the counter, boredly thumbing the screen down. Tom uses the opportunity to fish his own phone out of his pocket, where he finds a new message from Chris: 'ready to see it?', it says, followed by a baby bottle emoji. 

 

Tom rolls his eyes. 'it's not big yet', he types back. 

 

It takes less than a few seconds for Chris to answer with a simple, remarking 'yet'. 

 

Tom feels revolted for unknown reasons. He feels like answering something nasty back, something along the lines of 'how can you be happy about it?', but instead smacks his lips together and is relieved by the note that springs up on his screen to warn him that he's got a new blog message. It's from the blog he had been looking up, Rina's. 

 

"Do you really have a boyfriend?" 

 

Tom is surprised to find Julia asking him. He looks up, and comes face to face with the girl's hesitant eyes. She looks embarrassed all of a sudden, as though chastising herself for letting that question slip. 

 

"Yes, I do." He wonders if she thought he had been lying all the time or if she just didn't know how to approach the subject. 

 

"Oh," she nods, "what is it like?" 

 

Tom opens his mouth to answer something, but she shrugs nervously. "I mean, I don't like anyone on my class but my mother keeps bothering me about it," she rolls her eyes. 

 

Tom doesn't really know what to say to that. He always approaches children, or even younger teenagers carefully, as though he might say something that will give them the wrong example to follow. "Well," he begins, "you're still young so you shouldn't worry about it," he shrugs, and gives a tiny, supportive smile. 

 

"I know, but all the girls in my class keep talking about it, and I don't know," she stares at the countertop. "Do you sometimes think girls are pressured into thinking about those things earlier?" 

 

Tom watches her carefully, suddenly seeing her in a new light. "Yes," he says, truthfully. "Yes, I think they are." 

 

Julia nods quietly, and Tom feels like she really should engage in conversation more often, so he clears his throat and clarifies. "But don't let it get to you, right? I mean, I started dating Chris because I found him very funny and sweet, and I truly liked him. I didn't do it because my mother wanted me to. And it's way easier than you would think." 

 

Julia settles her cellphone face-down on the counter. "But do you like him _like_ him? Constantly? Because I don't see how I can like someone forever." 

 

Tom laughs. "Well," he shrugs. "I like him... generally," Julia chuckles. "Sometimes he annoys me, sometimes he does something I hate or says something that I don't agree with. But I think for the amount of time he makes me happy it's all worth it." 

 

Julia watches him, giving him a slowly-growing smile. "That sounds nice." 

 

Tom feels like he's blushing, and stares contemplatively at the countertop. "Yes, it really does." 

 

They are interrupted by Sarah showing up at the kitchen doorway. "Children, come on, they're about to cut the cake." 

 

Tom gets to his feet instantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope to see you again soon!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my sweeties! I come to bring a new chapter! It isn't as big as I wanted it to but it's sufficient. Hope you've all had a great Christmas!

The doctor reminds Chris of an old bear, with calm brown eyes and a soft-looking hair. The collar of his shirt that peeks from his coat has a coffee stain on it, and when he smiles warmly at them and takes a look at Tom's file he scratches the short bristles forming on his chin. 

 

Tom regards Chris with a nervous look, gulping and wringing his hands together on his lap. He's sat on the bed and Chris stands by his side, occasionally taking his wrist to rub the skin there. 

 

"I see," the doctor makes, humming to himself. His name is Gold-something, Chris doesn't remember, and he sets Tom's file down before smiling and rubbing his hands together anticipatively. "Okay, let's get started then. Thomas, have you ever done this before?" He nods towards the equipment and Tom shakes his head mutely. "Oh, it's very simple. See, I'm gonna rub this cold little gel on your belly- ahn, may I?" He motions towards Tom's middle and Tom quickly lifts the hem of his shirt out of the way. The skin of his belly is pale, with only a lonesome freckle near his navel that Chris has always found terribly endearing. 

 

"Right, so," the doctor continues uncertainly. "This, uhm, perhaps you'd prefer to-?" He says to Chris, handing him a small, white tube. Chris takes it wordlessly, and while the doctor turns on the equipment, Chris smears the gel on Tom's belly. Save for a flinch and a grin, Tom lies back down and makes no comment. 

 

"This is really interesting, I'd never seen something like this before," the doctor states, watching the small visor that is now on. "I mean, Dr Hart is an old friend of mine. She told me once about you, Tom," Tom glances at him. "And I found it fascinating." Chris nods in response, he knows Tom always gets uncomfortable when he thinks he's being treated as an abnormality. "Un, if you could just-" the doctor motioned towards Tom's belly. He cleared his throat. "A little lower." 

 

"Oh, right," Chris said, and Tom blushed, sliding farther down the bed so Chris can dip the waistband of his pants to smear the gel lower. The skin there is the same, no obvious swell, but still Chris does it carefully, imagining that in a few months it would begin to swell with the baby. He feels ridiculous inside, a maddening need to laugh in happiness. 

 

"Okay," Tom murmurs, and takes Chris' wrist in hand to make him stop. Chris gives him an apologetic look and folds his hands beside Tom. On the screen, waves of black and white unfold and neither has any idea of what is going on. 

 

The doctor fumbles some more until positioning the wand beneath Tom's navel. He makes a humming noise of concentration and then the screen grows more or less stable. 

 

"Here, you see?" The doctor asks, pointing at a white spot of strange dimensions nestled near the edge of a black circle. 

 

Chris squints, ignoring what the doctor seems to be indicating at first, and then he finally grasps it. "Oh, god." 

 

Tom turns to stare apprehensively. His eyes run over the screen until focusing on what the doctor is pointing at. The space between his eyebrows dip, mouth hanging open. "Is that...?" 

 

"The fetus, I suppose," the doctor nods, pausing the screen and squinting at it. He gives a small smile and finds Tom's incredulous look. "It's still tiny, but can you see this here?" He touches a button and the image zooms in on the spot. Chris gasps. "This is the head," the doctor continues, indicating the round shape, "and the rest of the body. These wispy things are the legs. I would say it's five to six weeks old. We'll get a better look at it once it's bigger, maybe even tell the sex," he smiles and turns back to them, "do you have any preferences?" 

 

Tom gulps, forcing his eyes away as he shakes his head. Chris pays him a curious look before answering. "I was hoping a girl." 

 

The doctor hums, and Tom finally turns to look at Chris. "A girl?" He whispers. Chris shrugs shyly. 

 

"Well," the doctor cuts their eye-lock, "would you like me to print it?" 

 

Tom gives him a pleading look. 

 

\- 

 

Chris sits heavily behind the wheel with a groan, carrying his and Tom's food inside the car. He closes the door and blasts the A/C on, turning to appraise Tom, who hasn't lifted his eyes to him and is instead running a finger over the printed image doctor Goldstein had given them. 

 

"This is really happening, isn't it?" Tom asks almost in a whisper. 

 

Chris sighs, watching him for a moment. "Yeah, it really is," Tom continues to stare at the image, an undecipherable look on his face. Chris clears his throat, "why don't we eat first and then we talk about it?" He says, offering Tom his lunch box. He doubts he would've gotten Tom to let go of it if their burgers and fries weren't smelling so amazing, but as it is Tom sets the image carefully on the console and reaches for his lunch. 

 

"Had any morning sickness yet?" Chris asks casually, biting into his burger. 

 

Tom hums, chewing until he says "A little bit, the other day. Mom had made an omelet," he cringes, nose scrunching, "I'm not very sure where I stand with eggs now. They didn't use to smell so bad before." 

 

They talk some more until Tom grabs one fry, staring at it longly before turning to Chris. "You never told me...," he blanks when Chris meets his eyes. Tom licks his lips. "You didn't say you wanted a girl." 

 

He still approaches the subject slowly, almost carefully. Truthfully Tom hasn't said much about it since the drugstore test they took, always veering from the topic, and Chris had been worried about him though he didn't push. Chris is happy he's got Tom talking about it more today. Maybe the ultrasound had made him feel safer. 

 

Chris grins. "You never asked," he shrugs, "you want a boy?" 

 

Tom flushes, turning away and finally eating his fry. He plays with the edge of the cardboard box for their drinks. "I don't know. I've never really thought about it, but I think- I think a boy would be nice. I already have my mom and the girls." 

 

Chris chuckles. "You're right. That's probably why I want a girl. Already have dad and the boys. Too much testosterone going on." 

 

They finish their lunch and Chris exits the car to throw the trash out. When he returns Tom has reclined his seat back, holding the image once more, a hand palming his belly underneath his shirt. When he sees Chris he drops it, blushing and adjusting himself next to him when Chris reclines his seat as well. Tom drops his head on his shoulder and they inspect the image together. 

 

Chris reaches for it and Tom bats his fingers away. "Your fingers are greasy, don't go touching it." 

 

"Oh, and yours aren't?" 

 

"No," Tom gives him the tongue. 

 

Chris kisses his temple. "It's so big already," he comments. 

 

"Are you kidding? It's really small." 

 

"Yeah but we can like, see the head. I thought we wouldn't even see anything." 

 

Tom hums. "I have to send it to Dr Hart, she'll want to know if everything went fine." 

 

"Sure," Chris eyes Tom's profile for a minute. 

 

"What?" Tom frowns, not liking being scrutinized. 

 

"You know what that means, right?" 

 

Tom shakes his head. 

 

"We'll have to tell our parents soon." 

 

It's like Tom turns into a completely different person, not Chris' sweet boyfriend, barefoot on his passenger seat, eating junk food in a parking lot. His eyes turn somber and he avoids Chris' gaze entirely, bending to store the image away from view. "I- I don't know." 

 

"Tom, listen," he begins, and watches as Tom sighs, pulling up his seat and staring out the window. "We have to tell them." 

 

"I know," Tom insists. "But I'm not- I don't want to do it." 

 

Chris pulls his seat up so they're at eye-level. "I can do it. I can talk to your mother, but you'll have to be there." 

 

"I, oh, Chris," Tom whines, hiding his face behind his hands. Chris' heart twitches for a moment, thinking Tom is crying. He isn't though, he's just distressed, which becomes clear when he pulls his hands back and turns to look Chris in the eye. "I love my mom and I don't want-" 

 

Chris' eyes widen. "She loves you too, Tom. She won't stop loving you because we're having a baby." 

 

Tom crosses his arms, opening his mouth once, twice before closing it. "You don't understand. She'll blame me, with reason, I know, but I don't want to feel bad about it. Not any more than I do now." 

 

Chris tries not to be sad when listening to that. He knows what Tom means. In the end of the day they're teenagers, a few months away from being adults, but still. This wasn't what he had planned for himself. He supposes it wasn't what Tom had either. But there was no other way around it. They'd have to raise a child and to do that, to prove to themselves and to others that they could they needed to be responsible about it first. Responsibility came with accepting the situation they were in and try and make it better, not repeat for a thousand times how they didn't wish for it to have happened this way. 

 

"Look, Tom, I know this was not ideal. But we'll deal with it now, together. If we don't-" 

 

"I know," Tom interrupts, grabbing both of Chris' hands on his own to stop him. "I know, I agree with everything you said but my mother is gonna tell my father and I really don't think I can do this now. Psychologically." 

 

Chris grimaces. Tom's father lives in another city with another family. He had never accepted Tom's condition well. There was no presuming how he would take the news. But Chris doubts Tom's mother would tattle on them with the intention of putting Tom under his father's scrutiny. For all that she would be mad, even sad and shocked maybe, Chris knew Diana. She was a reasonable, responsible woman who fought for her children and gave them the best life she could. But he couldn't tell Tom that and have him understanding in a heartbeat. He wasn't the one who lived with Tom' mom and sisters, he couldn't pretend he knew what it would be like for him. 

 

"Okay," Chris murmurs, "okay, sorry. But I have to tell mine." 

 

Tom pauses. "Are you sure?" 

 

Chris shrugs. "Yeah. I don't know when though, but soon." Tom blinks, forcing a small smile on his face. Chris pinches his cheek lightly. "Hey, don't worry. My mother has been bothering Luke after grandchildren. It's her absolute dream." 

 

Tom, in spite of himself, chuckles. 

 

Chris pulls on his seatbelt. "And it's gonna be a girl," he adds, because he can. 

 

"No," Tom gasps in mock shock. "A boy," he corrects, and he looks so adorable, so beautiful with his thin-lipped smile that Chris just has to pull him onto his lap and kiss him before they head off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you liked the chapter. Please leave comments so I can know your thoughts on it and continue! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and please don't be afraid to point out any mistakes!


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